


Poster Boys

by Alisanne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-05 04:30:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12787008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alisanne/pseuds/Alisanne
Summary: The Ministry’s doing a fundraising calendar, and even though he’s on the night shift, Draco can’t escape.





	Poster Boys

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xErised](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xErised/gifts).



> Thanks for the awesome prompts, xErised! I hope I managed to weave them into something you enjoy.  
> Thanks also to S and M for beta reading, and to the mods for their patience. <3

Draco waited until the Muggle moved past him before pointing his wand. “ _Obliviate_ ,” he murmured. 

The Muggle stopped in his tracks, shook his head, and, casting a confused look around, leaned against the wall. 

Stepping out of the alley, Draco walked towards him. “Are you all right?” Draco asked. “Can I help you?” 

None of the passers-by were paying attention, so Draco grasped the man’s arm, looking deeply into his eyes. Working fast, he inserted a new memory, removing all traces of the magic the man had inadvertently seen. Once done, he stepped back, saying, “Well, if you’re sure you’re all right—”

The man blinked. “I’m fine.” Shaking off Draco’s hand, he scowled. “Gerrof!I’m late for an appointment. Excuse me.” 

Watching the man hurry away, Draco smirked. That had to be his smoothest one yet. Inserting the urge to leave the area as quickly as possible ensured no exposure to residual magic and made it more likely the new memory would set. 

Humming, Draco turned on his heel, ducked into the alley, and, making sure he was deep in shadow, obscured from sight of any passing Muggles, he Disapparated. 

Striding out of the Ministry Floo, Draco moved towards the lifts. 

“Oi, Malfoy!” 

Pausing in his tracks, Draco spun. “What? Oh. It’s you.” He raised an eyebrow. “You’re here late, aren’t you?” 

Dennis Creevey, official Ministry photographer, sighed. “Yes, but you’ve given me no choice since you won’t answer my interoffice memos.” 

Draco smirked. “Sorry about that,” he lied.

Creevey shook his head. “Look, Malfoy, I know you’d rather not, but the Ministry is definitely doing this fundraising calendar, and you’re on the list of the Ministry’s most fit wizards for whatever reason, so we need to set up a time for me to take the photos.” 

“There’s a list?” Draco blinked.

“Oh yes. Everyone voted a few months back, remember?” 

Draco frowned. “I didn’t realise they were going to use that information for anything specific,” he said slowly. 

“Surprise!” said Creevey.

Draco glared at him. “Is anyone else participating in this…project?” he asked. 

Creevey beamed. “Oh yes! I got Ambrose, Longbottom and Smith from the Aurors, Mitchell from Magical Creatures, Weasley and Potter from your own department and even the Minister himself has agreed to—”

“Wait, Potter’s doing it, too?” Draco interrupted. 

“Oh yes! He was one of the first to sign on.”

“Of course he was.” Draco scowled. “When’s _he_ taking pictures?” 

Creevey pulled out a clipboard. “Looks like he and Weasley are doing it tomorrow at eleven. I know you work the night shift, though, so I can set yours up for tomorrow night, or maybe Friday night if tomorrow’s too short notice—” 

“I’ll do mine tomorrow morning at eleven with Potter and Weasley,” Draco blurted out. 

Creevey blinked. “Wait, what—?”

“Are you deaf?” Draco snapped, turning away. “Tomorrow at eleven.”

“But won’t you be tired?” Creevey called after him. “You work the night shift.”

“I’m aware. And yes, I probably will be tired,” Draco said, pressing the button for the lift repeatedly. When it finally opened, he stepped inside, turning to smirk at Creevey. “No Malfoy ever let that stop them from looking their best, however. See you tomorrow morning.” And as the lift door closed, Draco sagged. What the hell had he just agreed to do?

* * *

The second his shift ended, Draco hurried to the door, and within five minutes he was standing in front of his closet, trying to decide what to wear for a photo shoot with Potter. 

Pansy arrived twenty minutes later, bleary-eyed and carrying two cups of steaming coffee from the local coffee chain. Handing one to him, she collapsed onto the chaise lounge and waved a hand. “Go on, then. Show me what you’re planning to wear.” 

“Shouldn’t you be helping me pick something? That was the while point of asking for your help!” Draco sipped the coffee. 

Pansy yawned. “Draco, darling, it’s barely daylight and I was up late. If you weren’t my best friend I’d have told you to sod off when you sent that owl at midnight asking for my help this morning. So excuse me if I’m a little testy.” 

“I’d forgotten how much you hate mornings,” Draco sighed. He smirked. “Well, unless you’re coming home from some bloke’s flat.”

Pansy held up two perfectly manicured fingers in a lewd gesture. 

Draco’s smirk widened. “Sorry, you’re not my type.” 

“Trust me, I know.” Pansy crossed her legs. “Now, are we here to argue or are we here to finally get you noticed in a positive way by Potter?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “I’m not asking for the impossible.” 

Pansy sighed. “It’s not impossible, Draco. The man’s always had a thing for you.” 

Draco scowled. “Yes. And that _thing_ is called hatred.” 

“He doesn’t hate you.” And as Draco opened his mouth to argue, Pansy held up a finger. “The clock’s ticking, Draco. Is this really how you want to spend the morning? If so, I’m leaving.” 

Exhaling, Draco rolled his neck, loosening it up. “No, it is not. Thank you for helping me on such short notice, Pansy,” he said, faux sweetly. “Now how about you get off your arse and help me pick something to make Potter green with envy!” 

Pansy glared at him. “You’re lucky I love you.” Drawing her wand, she flicked it, and four sets of robes floated out of the closet. “Try those on and we’ll see where we end up.” 

Draco bit his tongue. Hard. Nodding curtly, he set aside his coffee, grabbed one of the four robes, and stepped behind the screen he had in his bedroom. 

When he emerged in dark blue robes, Pansy shook her head. “Too austere. You look like you’re going to one of those garden parties your mother used to throw when she thought you were going to marry a woman.” 

She eliminated the black and the green as well, but when he came out in slate grey robes, her eyes went wide. “Well, well,” she murmured, standing up and circling him, “don’t you look delectable? These are the ones.” 

“Yeah?” Draco turned to the mirror to inspect himself. He smirked at his reflection, which he had to admit, looked _good_. 

“Just make sure you wear good underwear,” Pansy said, drinking the last of her coffee. 

Draco snorted. “Potter’s not going to see my underwear, trust me.” He spun, inspecting his backside. “That ship has sailed.”

“Ah, but isn’t the whole point of this to make him want to?” Pansy smiled, patting his cheek. “And trust me, he will if you wear those robes.” As she sauntered towards the Floo, she said, “Remember to save me one of the calendars!”

* * *

Draco walked into the Obliviator office at precisely eleven. Creevey was already there, as were Potter and Weasley, both in red robes, of course. 

Draco studiously avoided looking at Potter, but he could feel his eyes on him. “Where do you want me?” he asked Creevey.

Lips pursed, Creevey pointed to a spot by the window. “Over there for the moment.”

Inclining his head, Draco walked over to the window and waited. He saw Potter and Weasley whispering together, and began counting the moments until one of them approached. 

“Malfoy.” 

Draco turned and looked straight into Potter’s eyes. When had he got so tall? “Potter.” 

“Good to see you.” Potter smiled. “Ron and I were just saying how we’d never even know you work here except for the fact that you leave us notes from the overnight cases. Shame we don’t see more of you.” 

Was he taking the piss? Draco raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that by design? It’s my understanding you requested not to work with me.” He sneered. “I suppose I’m lucky you didn’t just demand I be fired, but I suppose seniority counts for something around here.” 

Potter gaped at him. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

Draco snorted. “Nice acting, Potter. I almost believe you don’t know what I’m talking about.” 

Potter’s eyes narrowed. “Because I don’t. If you’d explain it to me, however—”

He was going to make him say it? Draco huffed. “Fine. In case you don’t recall, I’d been working here a year before you and Weasley joined the department.” 

“Oh, I remember,” said Potter, tone dry. “And then you abruptly decided you needed the night shift and transferred to those hours.” He shrugged. “I figured you couldn’t bear to work with me.” He smiled faintly. “Ron just thought you were a vampire.” 

“Weasley’s an idiot. And I didn’t decide to change my hours,” Draco sneered. “I was informed by the powers that be that I either had to accept the night shift or I’d be sacked. The implication was, you wanted nothing to do with me, and since you were deigning to join the department, I had to _adjust_ , because we all know what Saint Potter wants, he gets.” 

Potter’s mouth worked for a moment. “I never said any such thing!” 

“Whatever, Potter.” Draco turned away. “I’ve had a long night, and some of us will have to work later after no sleep, so let’s get on with this photo shoot, shall we?”

“Malfoy—”

“Right,” said Creevey, “we’re ready for everyone. Could you all come over here and stand in front of the department sign?” 

“Yes,” said Draco, moving away from Potter. “ _Do_ let’s get on with this.” 

They posed, Creevey repositioning them every few shots, and despite Potter trying to talk to Draco between shots, Draco managed to either ignore or avoid him throughout the entire session. By the end, he’d given up, although he did keep casting distressed looks Draco’s way. 

“Okay, I think that’s all I need for now,” said Creevey after about an hour and a half of posing. “I’ll process these and let you know if I need any more. If I do, it shouldn’t be very many.” 

“Lovely,” said Draco, rolling his stiff neck. “I’m off.” He glanced over at Potter and Weasley, who were chatting quietly. The moment he looked, Potter raised his eyes and their gazes met and locked. Potter’s eyes held…apology?

Stiffening his shoulders, Draco sketched a mocking salute and, turning away, started for the door. 

“Malfoy! Wait!”

Ignoring him, Draco sped up, hitting the lifts before Potter could catch him. Within moment of reaching the lobby he was in an exit Floo and home in his flat, panting. 

Stripping quickly, Draco crawled into bed, but it was a long time before he slept.

* * *

“W-what was that?” The Muggle, who bore a resemblance to one of the Weasleys, what with her red hair, shook her head. 

“Probably one of those military experimental planes,” said another man. “I hear they’re up to all sorts of mischief these days.” 

Draco slowly released his grip on his wand and edged away from the crowd. People were muttering amongst themselves, but no one was looking up at the sky where the Hungarian Horntail had been only moments before. 

Exhaling, Draco lingered a bit, ensuring no one had escaped his generalised Memory Charm, that the sodding dragon didn’t return, and that no one accidentally saw the dragon keepers herding it away. 

By the time he got back to the Ministry, Draco was exhausted, so when he walked into the Obliviator office and saw Potter standing there, he froze. “Potter. Was I gone that long?” He glanced at the clock, which read one a.m. “No, it’s still my shift. What are you doing here?” 

Potter moved forward. “I wanted to talk to you, and this seemed the only way, since you’ve been avoiding my messages for days.” 

“I haven’t been avoiding them,” Draco lied. “I work nights, you work days. We’re ships that pass in the night.” Walking over to his desk, Draco sat, pulling parchment out of his desk. “Do you mind if I do my report while you talk?” he asked, picking up his quill. 

“Actually,” said Potter, pulling up a chair. “I do mind.” 

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Draco drawled, exaggeratedly putting down his quill. “Do go ahead, Potter. Never mind you interrupting my work shift, we’re all here to accommodate you, after all.” 

“Sod off, Malfoy. I’m trying to clear the air between us.” Crossing his arms, Potter huffed. 

Smirking, Draco sat back in his chair. “Then by all means, Potter, don’t let me interrupt.” 

“You are such an arse.” Potter shook his head, but something about the curve of his mouth and the twinkle in his eyes indicated he wasn’t truly upset. “Will you just listen a second? I’m trying to apologise.”

“Why didn’t you say so in the first place?” Draco waved his hand. “Proceed.”

“It _is_ my fault you were transferred to nights,” Potter said, becoming serious. “But I swear, I didn’t mean for it to seem like I was trying to get you kicked to another shift! When I joined the Obliviators, Martin, the scheduler, asked what my preferred shift was, and Ron was with me and he said something like, ‘whichever one Malfoy’s not on,’ and we both laughed because he was joking, but Martin took us seriously, and then next thing we knew we were on days and you were on nights, and Martin swore that was your preferred shift and—”

“Potter!” Draco snapped. “You’re babbling.” 

“Sorry.” Potter exhaled. “Anyway, I just want you to know, it really was a mistake, and I didn’t mean for you to be thrown off your shift. I’d like to make it up to you.” 

Martin. Of course. Draco never had like that little bastard. Seemed the feeling was mutual. Draco inclined his head. “So if I said I want to be back on days—?”

“I’d switch with you.” Potter so looked earnest it made Draco’s teeth ache. 

Rolling his eyes, Draco said, “And make me work with Weasley? No thanks.” 

“Ron feels bad, too, actually,” said Potter. “If you’re rather take the day shift by yourself and have us both work nights—”

Draco stared at him. He looked serious, and for a moment, Draco was tempted. He shook his head. “It’s fine. I’m accustomed to nights now. Plus, doesn’t Weasley have young children? He wouldn’t thank me for interfering with his ability to see them.”

“That doesn’t matter.” Potter’s face was set. “What matters is we be fair about the distribution of work. We both feel bad about disrupting your life like this.”

“It’s fine, Potter. I’m used to getting the short end of the broomstick.” Draco sighed. “Now, if that’s all—”

“No.” Leaning forward, Potter grasped Draco’s hand, sending a shock of awareness up Draco’s arm. “I won’t allow you to martyr yourself. Merlin knows you’d just hold it over my head forever. Plus, it’s not _fair_!”

Draco eyed Potter’s hand on his arm. “Please unhand me.” 

Potter withdrew. “Sorry. But we can’t just ignore this, we have to fix it! It’s not—”

“Fair?” Draco snorted. “Anyone who’s Slytherin these days, Potter, eventually learns nothing in life is especially fair. That is a lesson we can’t help but learn.” 

Potter raised an eyebrow. “You think that realisation is exclusive to Slytherins? Trust me, Malfoy, I know that better than most.” 

Draco sighed. What was he doing arguing with Potter? “I…Yes, I suppose you do. All right, what solution do you propose?”

Potter blinked. “Well, we could rotate the overnight shift, take turns.” 

Draco pursed his lips in thought. “Or we could have an on-call system,” he said slowly. “Not a lot happens at night, but when it does, it’s exciting.” 

“I’ll bet.” Potter nodded. “That’s not a bad idea. What if we stagger the day shifts, have an early shift _and_ a late shift that goes until, say, nine or ten, and then we rotate those along with the on-call system?” 

“Sounds…complicated.” Draco smirked. “Martin will have a fit.” 

Potter shrugged, smirking back. “Near as I can tell he doesn’t do much anyway.” 

Draco laughed. “Why, Potter. I do believe we just found something on which we both agree.” 

“Only took us ten years,” said Potter, grinning. “Let’s not make it another ten before we agree on anything else, yeah?” 

Draco raised an eyebrow. “That’s not up to me,” he murmured. 

Potter smiled. “Fair point.” He exhaled, and extended his hand. “How about we start over, then? I’m Harry Potter.” 

Draco rolled his eyes. “I know who you are.” 

“Just…humour me, yeah?” 

“Fine.” Draco clasped Potter’s hand, his breath catching in his throat as he again felt that spark of _whatever_ he’d felt before sizzle through him. “Draco Malfoy,” he whispered. 

“Pleased to meet you,” said Potter, eyes focussed on Draco’s. “Something tells me we’re destined to be good friends.” After a final squeeze, he let go and stood up. “Right, I’m off to bed. This overnight shift stuff is going to take some getting used to.”

Once Potter was gone, Draco closed his eyes, resting his head on his desk. Fuck, but he was in trouble.

* * *

“So what’s the problem?” Pansy sipped her martini. “Seems to me you got what you want. You’re off that horrible night schedule, which, let’s be honest, Draco, was cutting into our social time horribly! And it sounds as if Potter’s being positively friendly these days.” 

Draco swirled his brandy in his snifter and sighed. “This is almost worse,” he finally said. “At least before, I didn’t have to see Potter, so it was easier to not think about him, not to hope. Now, though—”

Pansy sighed. “Have you considered just asking him out?”

“Since I don’t even know if he’s gay? No.” 

“You mean you didn’t see—” Pansy paused, a smirk crossing her face. 

“Didn’t see what?” Draco muttered. 

“Nothing, nothing at all.” Pansy’s smile was positively evil. “In that case, there’s just one way to find out,” she said. “Ask. Him. Out.” 

Draco snorted. “And if he says no?”

She shrugged. “You return to the night shift.” 

Draco glared at her. “I thought that was cutting into our social time?” 

Pansy waved a hand, and the lamplight glinting off her emerald ring reminded Draco of Potter’s eyes. “Darling, I’m all about your happiness, as you know. I’m prepared to give up my own for your benefit.” 

“Right,” Draco drawled. “You’re so self-sacrificing.” 

“I know.” Pansy’s smirk faded. “But seriously, Draco, you need to sort this out. If there’s a chance, go for it, and if there’s not, move on. You can’t keep pining like this, it’s not healthy.” 

Draco nodded, taking a sip of the brandy and relishing the burn as it went down his throat. “You’re right. That’s easier said than done, though.” 

“What about the new calendar project? That could be your opportunity.” 

“Ugh,” Draco groaned. “Don’t remind me! Creevey is an idiot. I can’t believe the entire thing was done, ready to go into production, and then he decides it will raise more money if it’s an _underwear_ calendar.” Draco rolled his eyes. 

“He’s right, though.” Pansy smirked. “I’ll probably buy several copies now.” 

“You are horrible.” 

“No, darling, I’m just a healthy woman with normal appetites.” Pansy tipped back the last of her martini and sighed. “And speaking of, I need to get home. All this talk of sex is making me horny, and Theo’s visiting tonight.” 

“We weren’t talking about sex,” Draco said, scowling.

Shaking her head, Pansy leaned forward, patting his cheek. “Yes, darling, we were.”

* * *

“Salazar help me,” Draco muttered under his breath when he arrived at the Ministry conference room for the second calendar photoshoot. 

Creevey was already there, of course, setting up lights and such, but it was Potter who drew Draco’s eyes like moth to flame. He was resplendent in a crimson dressing gown that was open to show him in matching pants and nothing else. His chest and thighs were smoothly muscled, glistening under the light. And if Draco squinted, he could see Potter’s package clearly outlined in the thin fabric of his pants.

Draco considered leaving, and even began edging towards the door, but of course, that was when Potter spotted him. “Hey, Malfoy, there you are! Get over here. It’s weird being the only one in underwear here.” 

His heart began beating out a staccato rhythm that sounded to Draco like, ‘You’re fucked, you’re fucked, you’re indubitably fucked.’ Walking towards Potter, Draco clutched the front of his dressing gown together. He had no problems with his body, but compared to Potter’s…well, he clearly needed to do more physical activity. And unfortunately, since his mind began helpfully supplying visuals of the sort of _physical activity_ he’d like to be doing just then, his body began reacting.

“Malfoy. There you are. Great.” Creevey was fiddling with some dials on his camera. “Go ahead and drop your dressing gown and I’ll see what sort of light you’ll need.” 

Draco gaped at him, mind racing. “It’s, er, cold in here, don’t you think? I’d rather hold on to my dressing gown for a bit.” 

Creevey sighed, drawing his wand and waving it at Draco. “There. Warming Charm. Now please hurry, I’m doing the Aurors in an hour, so we don’t have much time.” 

Slowly, Draco moved his hands to his belt as he frantically tried to think the least sexy thoughts he could. Filch and Pomfrey. Filch, Pomfrey _and_ Mrs Norris…

“I can go first if you’d like,” Potter said. “How about that, Dennis?”

“Sure, fine, whatever.” Creevey turned away. “But I still plan to do a few of the both of you together since you’re all I’ve got for your department.” 

“We are?” Draco looked around. “What about Weasley?” he asked. 

“Dennis is using his other picture.”

“That was an option?” Draco huffed. 

“Just for him,” said Creevey. 

“Why’s he so special?” muttered Draco.

“His wife’s scary!” Creevey shuddered.

Smiling, Potter cleared his throat. “What he means is, Hermione wasn’t comfortable with the idea of Ron posing in just his pants.” He shrugged. “I don’t have anyone like that to worry about, so—”

“Ah. Me either.” Draco blinked. “Wait. Does that mean you broke up with Weasley’s sister?” 

Potter frowned, staring at him. “Ginny and I haven’t been together for ages. Didn’t you hear?” 

“Hear what?”

“Oh, that’s right, you were probably working the night shift when the article came out and I imagine that didn’t leave you much time to keep up with the papers.” Potter flushed. “I’m gay.” 

Draco felt as if all the air had gone out of the room. “Gay?” he wheezed.

“Yep.” Potter’s expression went unreadable. “Problem?” he asked coolly. “Funny, I didn’t peg you for homophobic, Malfoy.”

“Homophobic? Me?” Draco froze, then a giggle burst from him. He quickly swallowed the rest of his laughter, and by the time he got himself back under control, Potter was staring quizzically at him, although at least the former coldness was gone. 

“Is something amusing?” 

Shaking his head, Draco said, “Yes. Well, no, not really. It’s just ironic—”

“Okay, I’m ready for you, Harry.” Looking away from Potter, Draco glared at Creevey, whose eyes widened. He took a step back. “…or I could wait a bit longer.” 

“Thanks, Dennis,” said Potter, eyes still trained on Draco as if he were a puzzle he was determined to solve. “That would be great.” 

Draco once again focussed on Potter, distantly hearing Creevey muttering about his schedule, but he tuned him out. 

“What’s ironic?” asked Potter, tone soft. 

Draco snorted. “Me being homophobic would be, since I’m as bent as they come.” 

Potter didn’t look surprised, he just smiled faintly. “I did wonder,” he said. 

Raising an eyebrow, Draco murmured, “And now _I’m_ wondering if I should be insulted.” 

“You definitely shouldn’t be.” Potter’s smile deepened as he edged closer. “You’re hot, and I’ve never seen you with a woman.” He shrugged. “It crossed my mind we could be trying to beat the same Bludger.” 

“Do a lot of beating, do you?” Draco murmured. 

Potter threw back his head and laughed, exposing the kissable column of his throat. 

Draco’s mouth went dry as he seriously contemplated licking it. In fact, he was actually leaning in when the flash of a camera caught him unaware. Blinking, he glanced over to see Creevey snapping away. He frowned. “What are you doing?”

Creevey waved a hand. “Keep doing what you’re doing,” he said. “This is great! You’re both so photogenic!” 

Draco raised an eyebrow. “I swear to Salazar, Creevey, if you don’t stop that right now I am going to—”

Potter placed a hand on Draco’s arm, interrupting him. “Let him,” he said. 

“What?” Draco stared at Potter. 

Smiling, Potter drew Draco closer. “How about we scandalise everyone?”

“Define scandalise,” Draco said, swallowing hard as Potter’s eyes dropped to his mouth. 

Potter shrugged off his dressing gown, and his body up close was even more stupendous than from far away. Draco could feel the heat coming off him. When Potter reached for Draco’s belt, Draco shivered. 

“Still cold?” Potter asked, concern colouring his voice. 

Draco shook his head. 

“Then let’s win the award for sexiest calendar photoshoot, shall we?” whispered Potter as he slid the dressing gown off Draco’s shoulders, letting it pool on the ground. 

Draco frowned. “There’s an award for that?”

“If there was, we’d win it hands down,” breathed Potter, and then his lips were on Draco’s, and Draco was kissing him back, and Potter’s tongue, Potter’s marvellous tongue, was stroking inside Draco’s mouth, mapping it, claiming it, and Draco was moaning into Potter’s mouth. When Potter’s hand settled on his back, Draco’s arms wound around Potter’s neck, and when Potter pressed closer, insinuating his thigh between Draco’s, Draco rocked against him. 

Distantly, Draco heard Creevey babbling about how brilliant it was, and Draco could only agree. 

Finally, when breathing was beginning to become an issue, Potter broke away. It took Draco a moment to focus on him, and when he did, Potter was smiling. “That went better than expected.” 

“Over here!” Creevey shouted. “Look at me!” 

Irritated, Draco scowled over at Creevey, even as Potter turned to glare at him as well. 

“Yes, perfect!” Creevey cried, snapping photo after photo. “That’s it. Look like you were interrupted in the middle of the best kiss of your lives!” 

Draco raised an eyebrow. “I _was_ just interrupted in the middle of the best kiss of my life.” 

Potter turned back to look at him, his eyes containing a mixture of hope and another emotion Draco didn’t dare name. “Yeah?” 

“As if you couldn’t tell?” Draco whispered. 

“You’re a hard man to read,” Potter replied. “Dennis, stop, please,” he said, without looking over again at Creevey. “And before you ask, no, you can’t actually use those pictures for the calendar.” 

“But, Harry—” 

“No.”

Grumbling, Creevey stopped shooting. 

“What happened to wanting to scandalise everyone?” Draco asked softly. 

“I think it will be scandalous enough when we start dating, don’t you? Good thing there’s no regulations against it.” 

Draco smirked. “You’re making a lot of assumptions here, Potter.” 

Potter raised an eyebrow. “Are you refusing to date me?” 

“I didn’t say that—”

“Then what _are_ you saying…? Stop right there, Dennis. I’ll need that film.” 

“Harry!” Creevey whined. “I need to turn in something for this photoshoot!” 

Potter extended his hand and a moment later, Creevey’s film was flying towards him. He caught it deftly without looking. “We’ll meet you back here tonight at nine when our shift starts, and we promise you’ll get your pictures then.” 

“Damn. All right. Fine.” Pouting, Creevey stomped out of the room.

Draco raised an eyebrow. “ _Our_ shift?” 

“Yep.” Potter smirked. “Didn’t I mention Ron took the day shift today so you and I could do this photoshoot together?”

“No, you neglected to mention that.”

“Oops.” Potter looked unrepentant. “That also means I’m joining you on nights, at least this week. So, we have all day to…prepare.” 

“Is that so?” Draco wordlessly levitated his dressing gown, slipping it on and tying the belt. “Guess I should head home and get some rest, then.” 

Potter slid his hand around Draco’s waist, pulling him close. “How do you feel about company?” 

Heat pooled in Draco’s core, and his breath hitched. “Something tells me I won’t get much rest if you join me,” he said, striving for a nonchalant tone.

“That’s not a no.”

Smirking, Draco leaned in. “Well spotted, Potter. Fine. Come on, then.” 

It was torture to walk to the lifts and down to the Ministry’s lobby only inches from Potter and not touch him. Draco inclined his head towards the closest Floo. “You’re sure about this?” he murmured.

Potter’s eyes were heated as he nodded. “Absolutely.” 

“Lovely. Follow me.” 

The moment they landed in Draco’s living room, they were all over each other. Draco, concerned the connection they’d felt earlier would dissipate, relaxed and gave himself over to Potter’s insistent kisses and heated touches. 

Stumbling to the bedroom, they tumbled onto the bed, shedding clothes. Potter ended up straddling Draco, his eyes glinting with mischief as Draco stared up at him. “I want to take my time,” he said. “But—”

“Fuck that,” said Draco, dragging his head down for a kiss, and that was it, they practically devoured each other. 

The kiss morphed after several moments, going from sloppy and desperate to slow, lazy, and deep. Potter shifted, moving down Draco’s body to suck kisses onto his chest, his hip, his inner thigh, and by the time he pressed Draco’s legs apart and pushed his spell-slicked fingers inside Draco to open him up, Draco was writhing. “Get on with it,” he groaned.

Raising his head, Potter smirked up at him. “What’s your hurry? We have all day.” 

Draco shamelessly bucked up. “ _Potter_ —”

Something of his desperation must have shown on his face, because Potter’s expression went intense, and he moved up his body, draping Draco’s legs over his shoulders where, face to face, he entered Draco with an insistent, steady push that drove all thought from Draco’s mind. Desperate not to fall apart immediately, Draco clung to Potter’s shoulders, panting as Potter drove in, then slid out, setting up a mild-melting rhythm. 

“All right?” Potter panted as he moved. 

Draco arched, trying to drag Potter deeper. “Just…fuck me, will you?”

“Happy…to…oblige,” Potter growled, speeding up, his thrusts going rough as he began slamming into Draco. 

Pleasure spiralled through Draco, building until it burst and he shuddered, spilling his come all over Harry’s stomach. Potter simply fucked him through it until he, too, was trembling, his thrusting ragged. Grinding his hips against Draco’s he shuddered and came, chest heaving.

When Potter was done, he was lying on top of Draco, his face buried in Draco’s neck. Draco stared up at his ceiling, his fingers tangling in Potter’s hair as he let his mind drift.

“Do you want me to go?” Potter finally whispered, raising his head to look at Draco.

Draco yawned. “Not unless you want to,” he said. “Although we should rest up for later.” 

“Later?” Potter slowly smiled. “And here I thought I’d have to talk you into more sex.”

Rolling his eyes Draco said, “For our shift, you nutter. We work tonight, remember?” 

“Ah, right.” Moving off him, Potter rolled onto his back. “That doesn’t mean we can’t do it again before we report in, though, does it?” 

Draco closed his eyes. “No, I suppose not.” 

Potter shifted again, and Draco felt Potter’s lips brush lightly against his. “Brilliant.”

* * *

“This turned out better than I expected,” said Pansy, flipping through the calendar. “Creevey’s actually quite talented.”

Draco snorted. “It helps when you’re taking photos of attractive people.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Pansy stopped on July, which featured Weasley looking fit in his robes. “Damn, even _he_ looks good.”

“If you like that type,” drawled Draco.

“Ah yes, I suppose your type _is_ more Potter-shaped,” Pansy remarked. “And speaking of the saviour, I take it things are still going well?”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “By rights I shouldn’t tell you anything. You _knew_ he was gay and you sent me in there unaware. I still haven’t forgiven you for that.” 

Pansy shrugged, clearly unrepentant. “It obviously worked out. I haven’t seen you this happy in ages. It’s clear you’re getting laid regularly.” 

“That’s none of your business.” Draco smirked. “Although you’re not wrong.” 

“Prat.” After flipping through the rest of the calendar, Pansy closed it and leaned forward. “I hear the project was such a success, they’re planning another one next year.” 

“That’s the rumour, yes.” Draco groaned. “Potter’s already signed us up for it. I told him I’ll be lucky if I don’t hex Creevey.” 

“You’re not hexing anyone except Muggles.” Pansy smirked. “So, are there any…extra, behind the scenes pictures? These are all right, but I bet there were some lovely, racy ones that didn’t make the calendar.”

Thinking about the photos Potter had confiscated from Creevey, Draco hummed. “Sorry, but you’ll have to be satisfied with these.” 

Pouting, Pansy leaned back. “That’s not fair. You have an actual Potter to look at every night, not just pictures.”

Smirking and satisfied, Draco sat back in his chair. “Yes, yes I do.”

~***~

  



End file.
